


Fly the Friendly Skies

by spikesgirl58



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 13:48:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6009121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While on a flight from Europe to New York, Napoleon thinks about all the time he's spent in the air.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fly the Friendly Skies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tallihensia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tallihensia/gifts).



 

“Illya, are you awake?” Napoleon’s voice was silk over satin soft.

“Do I have a choice?” He didn’t bother to open his eyes.

Napoleon’s hand found his under the blanket and the corners of Illya’s mouth curled up in the slightest of smiles as Napoleon traced circles in Illya’s palm. The rest of the airline cabin was dark except for one or two dim circles of light.  It was rare when he could venture any sort of intimate contact in public.

“I was just wondering, how many days do you think we’ve flown in our lives?”

“For business or pleasure?” Illya’s fingers closed on Napoleon’s, trapping them in a loose embrace, mindful of both their injuries.

“Either, both.”

“Probably at least a couple of years’ worth. Why do you ask instead of sleeping like any sane person?”

“Too much sleep in the hospital, I guess. I couldn’t sleep, so I started thinking about the flying we’d done and all the changes I’ve seen.  Remember coffee, tea or milk?  And the uniforms the stewardesses wore.”

“Not particularly.” Illya turned his head to study his partner in the dim light.  “Is there something wrong?  Are your injuries bothering you?”

A deep sigh. Napoleon’s suit hid a wealth of bandages.  “No, they’re fine.  I’m just…”

“I told you that you were checking out too early. We’re not the men we were, Napoleon.  You need to give yourself time to heal.”

“I’m fine, Illya. You worry like a Mother Hen at times.”

“Why shouldn’t I? I have a lot tied up in you.”  After a moment, Illya smiled.  “It seems like we’ve grown up in airplanes, doesn’t it?”

“Surprisingly enough, that’s what got me started in UNCLE. When I first joined UNCLE, flying was glamorous, something that only the rich and famous did with any regularity.  It gave me a sort of jet-setting edge that women adored and men envied.”

“You had different flights than me. I remember when it took over twelve hours to fly between New York and London.”

“But you were treated like a king all the time you were in the air. I still have some of those travel kits they used to hand out.  And there are still a couple pairs of those slippers in the back of the closet.”  Now the sigh was a happy one.

“I wondered about those.” Illya’s eyes were open now, but not focused on him.  Instead he scanned the interior.  “I do remember the meals that they served – the hand carved prime rib and the hot fudge sundaes.  China and crystal, if you were lucky enough to fly first class.  And the leg room.  Imagine me complaining about leg room.”

“Why am I not surprised that you would remember the food aspect?”

“And yet you recall the outrageous outfits the airlines forced their employees into.” He smiled and closed his eyes again as Napoleon squeezed his hand and released it.  “Each to his own, my friend.”  Napoleon pushed the slider back and peeked out the airplane portal.  The sun was just rising, painting the sky and clouds a soft blue and butter yellow.  He slid it closed again.  “I remember when they had curtains on all the windows.”

“And bathrooms you could actually move around in.”   Illya smiled at his own joke.  “And cocktail lounges.”

“And do you know the one constant through all of it, Illya?”

“Um, not enough legroom and missing luggage.”

“Ha, ha. It’s been you.  If you weren’t on the plane with me, you usually were at either end waiting for me.”

Illya looked over at Napoleon. “What’s wrong, my friend?  The times haven’t progressed that far yet.  You seem melancholy this morning or what I assume will shortly be morning.”  As if on cue, the lights in the cabin came on and the people around them grumbled and started to move.  “Yes, it is officially morning.”

The overhead speaker crackled and the captain mumbled something about them being just ninety minutes from New York and that the flight crew would soon be moving through the cabin.

Napoleon stretched carefully. The last thing he wanted to do was reopen any healing wounds.  “The best part about the flying has always been you.  You are a good traveling companion.”

Just then, Illya’s communicator went off and Illya hurried to silence it. He got one or two curious glances and nothing else.  The flying public were jaded now.  Nothing seemed to surprise them.

“Speak of the devil,” Illya murmured and then held the communicator close to his mouth. “Kuryakin.”

“Yes, Mr. Kuryakin. What is your ETA?”  It also didn’t surprise them that Waverly was at work. 

“About ninety minutes as the crow flies.”

“I’ll have a car waiting for you at the airport. Do be prompt and indulge in no side trips.  I want to debrief the pair of you as soon as you arrive at headquarters.  Waverly out.”

“Yes, sir,” Illya said to the dead communicator. “Guess he’s finally gotten wise to us.  So much for stopping off at the apartment to for a quick one… not that you are up for it.”

“With age comes wisdom.”

“Are you okay?”

“Just a little… um... distressed.” Napoleon shifted the blanket to one side and Illya grinned at the sight of Napoleon’s discomfort. “Let’s just say, I am more than up for it.”

“Well, the bathroom is a little small…”

“No, thanks.” Napoleon was firm.  “My mile high club days are well behind me.”  He winced at his own pun.  “Sorry, you know what I mean.”

“I do and I wasn’t suggesting that. But if you need help--”

“I’ve only to ask, yes, you’ve said that again and again. Now it’s my turn.  What’s wrong, Illya?  Why are you so… so pandering?”

“No reason.” He looked away quickly, as if suddenly incredibly interested in the approaching drinks cart.  “Do you want coffee when they get here?”

“I do, but I’d rather you answer my question.”

“It… it was just close this time, Napoleon. I almost didn’t get there in time.”

“But you did.”

“But I nearly didn’t. As you said, we are not as young as we used to be.”

“You said that, I didn’t. Napoleon caught Illya’s fingers and brought them to his lips quickly before releasing them.  “But we aren’t as old as we are going to be.”  

“With any luck. I just want to travel the road together.  Perhaps it’s time to have a discussion with Mr. Waverly.”

“Maybe.” Napoleon opened his slider and smiled as the sun crested over the tipoff the airplane’s wing.  “But not today.  Today is a good day for flying.”


End file.
